We laugh yet shed tears,
As we are chained with fears,
And we have sold our dignity,
In exchange for insanity,

Where is our cure?
It rests in our ancestral laboratory,
Waiting to challenge the global history,
As nothing but a fabricate,
The truth would reverberate,
And stimulate royals to levitate,

The illusions would no longer exist,
But the racial rhythm would persist,
As the ancestral prophecy insist.

Poet

Boadu

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